“Thanks for coming, Chris.” He took a step forward, as if he would give his brother a hug.
Chris sidestepped, keeping the embrace from happening.
Jed sat down on his side of the booth, any hope he’d had of an easy reunion evaporating. “Would you like something to drink? Or eat?”
Chris nodded at the Diet Coke. “One of those’d be okay.”
“I’ll get it for you.” As he stood, Jed took a moment to study his brother. He looked tired, dark circles etched beneath his eyes. Was he thinner too? Jed couldn’t be sure. Chris had always favored a loose-fit clothing style.
He went to the bar and ordered the beverage. It gave him time to say another quick prayer. A few minutes later, he returned to the booth, drink in hand. He set the glass in front of his brother before sitting opposite him.
Chris gave him a level gaze. “Your meeting. Your agenda.” His words dripped with animosity.
A quick retort popped into Jed’s head. He managed to quash it before it reached his lips and ruined everything. Instead, he drew a slow, deep breath and released it. “You said on the phone that you’re not going back home. Do you plan to stay in Boise?”
“For now.”
“Boise’s got a lot going for it.”
“Yeah.”
Another breath. “Look. I’m sorry about the things I said the last time we were together. I stepped over the line.”
Chris’s eyes widened for a moment, then darkened with suspicion.
“Laffriot never would’ve got off the ground without you. You’re right about that. I may know business and finances, but without your creativity, we never could’ve launched Caliban.” He shook his head, lowering his gaze to the Diet Coke in his right hand. “The company needs you, but I need my brother more.” The truth of the confession pierced his chest, and he looked up again. “I didn’t realize how far apart we’d grown. I’m not even sure how it happened or why it started. But I know I rode you hard the last couple of years, and I’m sorry for that.”
“You think I can’t take it when you come down on me. You still see me as some dopey kid, don’t you?”
Jed wanted to deny it but couldn’t.
Chris leaned forward. “I was okay with you doing better than me in school. I handled it when the girl I liked so much only had eyes for you.”
“What girl?”
Chris ignored the interruption. “I got used to Dad boasting to everybody about your achievements and nobody thinking I’d amount to anything. Heck. They were right. I’m not wired the way you are. And I’m okay with it now. I don’t want to be you. I want to be me. Took me a while to figure that out, but I’m good with it.”
His brother’s demeanor changed as he talked. His shoulders seemed less tense. His voice wasn’t filled with the same defensiveness. Jed didn’t dare hope that one brief meeting would fix all that was wrong between them, but he could hope this was a start.
Chris pulled his phone from his pocket and looked at the screen. “I’ve gotta go.”
You agreed to give me half an hour. Somehow Jed managed not to say those words aloud. Instead, he asked, “Can we meet again? Soon?”
“Depends.” Chris took a few quick swallows of his beverage before standing. “My work schedule’s crazy right now, and I’ve got some other stuff to deal with. I’ll see what I can work out.”
Work schedule? Where was Chris working? What was he doing? Where was he living? What did he have to deal with in Boise?
“I’ll text you,” his brother added, then walked away.
A few weeks ago, Jed would have gone after him. He would have grabbed his brother by the arm and forced him to stay. He would have told him what to do, and he would have demanded answers to all his questions. But this time he sat still, watching the door close behind Chris.
God, bring him home. Bring us both home. Bring us back as brothers, and bring us back to You.
Sunday, September 21, 1969
The day of the wedding was as beautiful as anyone could want, as was the interior of the church. The afternoon sun sent shafts of light through the stained-glass windows. Autumn-colored flowers of gold and red and orange decorated the ends of the pews on the center aisle, as well as the altar area.
As soft music played, a flower girl and two bridesmaids walked the length of the church. Then, with the louder chords of the bridal march, Charlotte stepped into view, holding her father’s arm. Family and friends all rose to watch as they made their way toward Grant, who waited for his bride near the altar steps.
Andrew grew misty-eyed. He’d never considered himself sentimental. He wasn’t afraid to show love for his family. Others would, no doubt, call him affectionate and tender. But sentimental? No, he’d never thought so.
But as the bride came down the aisle, waves of nostalgia washed over him. Wedding snapshots flashed in his memory even as the photographer’s camera flashed in reality. He and Helen’s wedding in October of 1929. Louisa’s wedding in 1944. Ben’s wedding soon after he’d returned from Europe in 1945. Francine’s wedding in 1950. Finally, their youngest, Andy Jr., in 1964. It had all happened so fast. Life was a whirlwind. His parents had warned him. They’d said that the years went by in the blink of an eye, but he hadn’t believed them. Why would he when just getting through four years of college had seemed to take forever? But here he was, on the other end of that lifetime, knowing how right they’d been.
Helen’s grip on his arm tightened while she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief held in her free hand. Blast if he didn’t think he could use a handkerchief himself.
Chapter 16
Holly didn’t go to the restaurant that Saturday. Her sister’s wedding was mere weeks away, and she had yet to settle on a cake design. Holly had decided Zachary could manage the restaurant without her for the day. In many ways, he seemed to manage better than Holly ever did. He was more than a great cook. He was calm in the midst of any storm. She envied him that.
A little before noon, Holly reached for her phone, opened the camera app, and took several photos from different angles. Then she texted them to Trixie, along with the question: Thoughts on this naked cake? (Means not frosted all over.)
It wasn’t long before she got Trixie’s reply: Love it! Different. Can you add flowers to the berries?
Holly put down her phone and went into the spare bedroom. In a basket in the closet, she found different kinds of artificial flowers. She grabbed several bunches and returned to the kitchen. There she placed the various blooms on different layers as well as the stand and took a couple more photos.
Text to Trixie: Examples only. Can match your bouquet.
Text to Holly: Perfect. Love it. Naked cake. Scandalous for a wedding?
Holly laughed before texting back that she thought it was okay. When Trixie didn’t send another reply, Holly returned her attention to the cake. It really was pretty, garnished with blueberries, raspberries, strawberries, and blackberries. Simple, yet elegant.
She picked up the nearby bowl and carried it to the sink. Before washing it, she ran her index finger around the bottom, scraping up the remaining frosting. She closed her eyes as she put her finger between her lips and let the vanilla buttercream flavor burst to life in her mouth. How long had it been since she’d allowed herself this much pleasure? Ages. Ages and ages. It was more than simply a day off. It was more even than getting to bake and play with designs. She felt a strange kind of freedom. Happiness, even. Worries awaited her, but for this moment she refused to let them enter her mind.
Turning, she looked at the cake again. Of all of her different ideas for Trixie’s wedding cake, she liked this one the best. Of course this was a smaller version of the one she would make for the day itself.
After removing the artificial flowers, she lifted the cake stand with both hands and carefully carried the confection down to the extra refrigerator in the basement. There it would stay for a couple of hours before she drove it over to the Lighthouse women and children’s shelter.
Letting out a breath, she climbed the stairs. At the landing, she flicked off the basement light. Pumpkin’s demanding meow drew Holly into the utility room, where she dispensed a few cat treats into a bowl across from the washer and dryer. She was rewarded with a loud purr of approval and a head rub.
“You’re welcome, baby.” She gave the cat’s coat a few strokes before returning to the kitchen. “Alexa, play my 1960s favorites.”
To the words and music of “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’,” Holly slow danced around the kitchen until she reached the sink. After wetting a cloth under the faucet, she began the task of cleaning up from her baking session. Her choice of music was thanks to her mom’s influence. When Holly was a girl, she and her mom had cooked and baked to the music of the sixties and seventies. Holly had never outgrown the habit. She could name more song titles and more artists from those two decades than she could from the first two decades of the twenty-first century. Her friends in school had thought her a bit strange because of it. She didn’t care.
By the time the Beach Boys began to sing “Good Vibrations,” the dishes and pans had been washed, dried, and put away, the counters wiped down, and the floor swept. Holly glanced around the room, loving her cheery kitchen. Then, swirling the dish towel over her head, she spun and gyrated around the island, letting the beat decide her movements.
* * *
Back from a late-morning run along the Greenbelt, Jed grinned as he watched Holly dance past the kitchen windows. He couldn’t see all of her movements from where he stood on the sidewalk, but he saw enough to love it. It was too adorable. No, she was too adorable. Leaning slightly forward, he strained to hear the music. Nothing except for the thrum of the bass.
Holly’s dancing stopped suddenly, and her gaze met Jed’s through the glass. He guessed there might be a blush rising in her cheeks. His smile broadened as he waved. A heartbeat later, he moved toward the back door. She met him there.
“What was the song?” he asked, still grinning.
“‘Good Vibrations.’”
“The Beach Boys?”
She was definitely blushing. “Yes.”
“Before your time. That’s for sure.”
“Before your time too.” She seemed to relax, and her laughter came easily. “My mom always listened to her favorite music when we baked. Her favorites became my favorites. At least in the kitchen.”
Jed leaned his forearm on the doorjamb. “Holly Stanford, you’re full of surprises.”
“I think I like that.”
“I think I do too.” He also liked the ease with which she met his gaze, the absence of the all-too-common wariness in her eyes.
She took a step back, opening the door fully. “Do you have time to come in?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” He followed her inside.
“I made a cake for Trixie to consider,” she said when she reached the island. “It got a thumbs-up. This one’s much smaller than she’ll need for the wedding, but it gave her the idea.”
A hint of vanilla lingered in the air, but no sign of baking could be seen in the kitchen. Jed motioned around the room. “Where’s the cake? Did you eat it already?”
“No.” She gave him a playful punch on the arm. “It’s in the basement fridge. I’m going to take it over to the Lighthouse in a little bit.” She paused for a moment, then added, “Would you like to come with me?”
What he would like to do was lean in and kiss her, but he settled for “Sure.”
Something flickered in her eyes. Had she guessed his real desire? And would she have welcomed the kiss? Maybe, but he didn’t want to rush her. He didn’t want to make the wrong move and hurt her. He would never want to hurt her.
She broke eye contact, lowering her gaze. “I . . . I’d better change my clothes before we go.” She untied the apron and pulled it over her head. “Meet me at the back door in half an hour?”
“I’ll be there.”
Holly hadn’t taken more than a few steps toward the hallway before Jed made himself scarce. Once down in his basement apartment, he peeled off his shirt on the way to the bathroom, where he showered off the morning. As he lathered on the soap, he closed his eyes, remembering the way Holly had looked as she danced around the kitchen. A moment later he realized he was whistling “Good Vibrations.” He laughed at himself, feeling in great spirits. He’d been looking forward to the hike tomorrow. This afternoon was a bonus.
The half hour she’d requested wasn’t up yet as he closed his apartment door behind him. That didn’t matter. He found her waiting for him, holding a cake in a large cardboard box with both hands.
“Want me to take that for you?” He held out his hands.
“I’ve got it. But you can open the hatch of my car for me.”
He moved ahead. Both garage door and hatch were open in short order.
“Thanks.” She set the cake box on a foam mat in the center of the level surface.
“So that’s what Trixie’s cake’s going to look like?”
“Yes.” She closed the hatch. “Only bigger.”
“Nice.”
She smiled at him. “Tastes good too.”
“Didn’t doubt it.”
They looked at each other for a moment more, then turned in unison toward their respective sides of the SUV.
The light banter the two of them had begun to exchange surprised Jed every time it happened. He’d never felt such ease with a woman. What was it about Holly that made the difference? He glanced over at her. She drove with her hands at nine and three. Her eyes were focused on the road ahead, breaking only to check both ways at the cross streets. A defensive driver. Even that seemed adorable to Jed.
Man, I’ve got it bad. He grinned as he looked out the passenger window. And I’m not the least bit sorry.
Thursday, September 25, 1969
Andrew answered the phone call that came at five in the morning, not long after he’d risen for the day. It was Louisa, their eldest daughter. Her daughter-in-law, Michael’s wife, was in labor.
“Shari’s pains started early yesterday, and I’m getting worried.” The strain in Louisa’s voice punctuated her words. “It’s gone on so long. Will you pray?”
“We’ll get dressed and drive into Boise. Your mother and I will do our praying on the way.”
“I don’t think you should come. It isn’t good for Mom. The doctor said she should avoid stress.”
“Do you think I could keep her away after this phone call? Do you think she won’t already be worried?”
Silence filled the line.
“We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
“Okay. If you think you should. Thanks, Dad.”
After hanging up the phone, Andrew turned to find Helen watching from the bedroom doorway.
“Shari’s in labor?”
“Yes, and it doesn’t seem to be going well.”
“Oh no.” Sorrow flitted across her face.
He embraced her. The decades hadn’t erased the heartbreak over their stillborn son. The memories assailed Andrew as if it had happened yesterday. Helen’s pain. The blood and the fear. The baby who’d never had a chance to know or be known. The loss had rocked their world far beyond that night. It had threatened to break their marriage in two. Only by God’s grace had they made it through that difficult time.
“I told Louisa we’d come to the hospital right away.”
“Yes. We’ll hurry.”
Grant and Charlotte were still away on their ho
neymoon, but Grant had arranged for a neighbor to feed the horses and gather the eggs. All Andrew needed to do, after getting dressed, was to pour kibble into Chester’s bowl and make sure there was fresh water beside it. His own breakfast could wait. He wasn’t hungry now.
It was after six before Andrew and Helen entered the hospital waiting room. When their eldest daughter saw them, she jumped up and rushed across the room, almost falling into Andrew’s arms. “I’m so glad you’re both here.” After hugging him tightly, she turned toward her mom.
Helen embraced her. “Why didn’t you call us yesterday?”
“We thought it would be better if you didn’t know until after it was over. You’ve been doing too much lately. You’re supposed to rest more, and you know how it is.” Louisa glanced at Andrew. “Francine will be furious with me for calling you.”
Andrew nodded. “And your mother would be furious if you hadn’t.”
“What have you heard?” Helen asked.
“Nothing. Not for a long time. Michael’s still with Shari. Her labor started yesterday morning. It was slow, but it seemed normal. Then all of a sudden—” She broke off abruptly, shaking her head.
Andrew looked around the waiting room. To his right, there were two couples—strangers to him—seated near each other, the women talking softly. They looked to be in their forties, so Andrew assumed at least two of them were about to become grandparents. To his left was Louisa’s husband, Samuel, who watched his wife with concerned eyes.
“Let’s sit down.” Helen hooked her arm through their daughter’s and gently guided her back to the chair she’d vacated.
Taking a breath, Andrew moved to sit beside his son-in-law. “Have you been here all night?”
“Yeah.” Samuel glanced at his wife again. “Louisa’s been here from the start. I came after I finished work yesterday.”
Andrew said a silent prayer for mercy and protection, but he didn’t promise Samuel that his daughter-in-law or his grandbaby would be all right. He couldn’t know what would happen. What he did know was that he trusted God with the end result, even if it turned out to be painful. It was all he knew how to do. Trust and pray. Pray and trust.
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